


(it's not much) but my money's on you

by vinegar-and-glitter (vinegarandglitter)



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/F, F/M, Fem!MacCready, Roberta Josephine MacCready will fight you, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 13:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10640460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinegarandglitter/pseuds/vinegar-and-glitter
Summary: Roberta Josephine MacCready has a mouthful of a name, a sniper rifle, a dead husband, a sick son miles away, and a hell of a chip on her shoulder. Traipsing around the Commonwealth with the Sole Survivor of Vault 111 is better than drinking herself blind in Goodneighbor. She just wasn’t expecting to like Nora so damn much.The Fem!MacCready fic no one asked for.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I should be working on Into The Blue but somehow I can't get the idea of Fem!MacCready out of my head. Just picture it, though - tiny sniper Roberta Josephine MacCready, who is super smol, likes making caps, is ready to fight everyone and needs a bath, a hug and a way to save her son. 
> 
> Fic title from Dessa’s “Dixon’s Girl” for no real reason.

i.

The first thing Nora notices when she walks into the back room of The Third Rail is the tiny ball of sass sitting in a chair, mouthing off to two guys at least 3 times her size. 

“Can’t say I’m surprised to find you in a dump like this, MacCready,” says the slightly more dangerous looking man of the two. 

“I was wondering how long it’d take your bloodhounds to track me down, Winlock,” the girl says (as she speaks, Nora realizes that the kid couldn’t be far out of her teens). “It’s been almost 3 months… don’t tell me you’re getting rusty.” There’s a gleam in her eye as she idly strokes the sniper rifle propped up next to her and she raises an eyebrow with a smirk. “Should we take this outside?”

“It ain’t like that,” Winlock replies, looking her up and down in a predatory manner. “I’m just here to deliver a message.”

“In case you forgot, I left the Gunners for good,” says MacCready, standing up defiantly. She seems even tinier once she got on her feet - Nora’s willing to bet the combat boots added on an extra couple of inches to her actual height. 

Winlock chuckles. “Yeah, I heard. But you’re still taking jobs in the Commonwealth. That isn’t going to work for us.”

MacCready bristles from beneath her ridiculous green hat. “I don’t take orders from you. Not anymore. So why don’t you take your girlfriend and walk out of here while you still can?”

“What?” the other man who’d remained silent until now blurts out angrily. “Winlock, tell me we don’t have to listen to this little bitch.”

“Listen up, MacCready,” says Winlock testily. “The only reason we haven’t filled your pretty little body with bullets is because we don’t want a war with Goodneighbor. Don’t know if you’re fucking that ghoul mayor or not - none of my business - but he seems to have taken a shine to you and he’s not a freak we wanna cross. See, we respect other people’s boundaries… we know how to play the game.” Winlock takes another long look up and down her body, which is practically vibrating from barely contained fury. “Can’t say I didn’t try to teach you, but it’s something you never learned.” 

“Glad to have disappointed you,” says MacCready smugly, still looking like she’d like to rip his eyeballs right out of their sockets. 

“You can play tough all you want,” Winlock replies, “but if we hear you’re still operating inside Gunner territory, all bets are off. You got that?”

Nora thinks she can see a flicker of fear run across MacCready’s face, but only for an instant. The young crosses her arms and looks at at Winlock, expression stormy. “You finished?”

Winlock glares at her. “Yeah, we’re finished.” He gestures to his companion. “Come on, Barnes.” The two men push past Nora, not before taking a moment to ogle her ass in her vault suit. She fights the urge to deck them for it. 

The younger girl fixes Nora with a calculating look. “Look lady,” she says faux-casually, “if you’re preaching about the Atom, or looking for a friend, you got the wrong girl. If you need a hired gun… then maybe we can talk.”

Nora smirks. “From what I just heard, sounds like you’re out of business.”

MacCready rolls her eyes. “Are you kidding me? I’m not about to let a couple of Gunner rejects stand between me and a solid payday.” 

Nora sizes her up again. MacCready’s wearing a long, oversized beige trench coat that’s definitely seen better days - it’s tattered at the back, most of the front is missing, she’s obviously replaced one of the sleeves with what looks like the top of some military fatigues in army green and it appears to be secured around her waist by a brown belt (and hopes and prayers). There’s a pair of binoculars hanging off the belt, a bandolier strapped to her green cargo pant clad legs and a watch on her wrist that looks mostly for show. 

Messy, dirty blonde hair pokes out from a green cap, reaching just above her chin in jagged layers - likely growing out a pixie cut, which makes sense if she used to run with the Gunners (Nora had come across them in the past, and all the women had short, military style cropped hair). Her young face is full of harsh angles with her pointed chin, prominent cheekbones and sharp nose. A smattering of freckles, thin lips - she looks tired everywhere except the eyes, which are bright blue, piercing and calculating, taking in every detail. Nora can tell that as she’s sizing up the younger girl, MacCready’s sizing her up, too.

She’s at least a full foot shorter than Nora and almost dangerously thin. Heck, a strong breeze could probably knock this girl over. But there’s an energy, a fierceness, that shows she’s a hell of a lot stronger than she looks. 

Nora smiles slightly. “Sounds like you can handle yourself,” she says thoughtfully, “but I worry about those guys throwing a wrench in the works.”

MacCready scowls and Nora wants to laugh at just how ridiculously young she looks doing it, but manages to restrain herself. “If you’re worried about Winlock and Barnes, don’t be,” the young girl says confidently. “They couldn’t kill a squirrel with a rocket launcher.” Nora does laugh at that and MacCready smirks in response, then fixes her with that penetrating look Nora’s starting to get used to. Those bright blue eyes that never miss a thing. “Now, how about you? How do I know I won’t end up with a bullet in my back?”

That particular question makes Nora’s stomach curl a little. This kid is… well, a kid. Killing a kid for no damn reason isn’t something she’d ever do. But she suspects MacCready isn’t going to want to hear that. So she goes with what she hopes will be an acceptable response. “All I can give you is my word… and a bunch of caps.”

MacCready smiles, giving Nora a glimpse of crooked teeth. “Bunch of caps, huh?” she says casually. “Okay, hotshot. Price is 250 caps… up front. And there’s no room for bargaining.”

Nora thinks back to the contents of her cap purse. If she’s going to get a hotel room in Goodneighbor, she can’t quite afford that. But there’s something in this kid’s eyes she recognises - a desperation she’s been trying to hide from the world. So she gives it a go. “Everything’s negotiable. Would you take 200?”

MacCready’s eyebrows raise and for a moment, Nora’s sure she’s going to tell her to go to hell. Instead, her mouth curves back into a now-familiar cocky smirk. “You drive a hard bargain, but you just bought yourself an extra gun,” she says. “All right, boss… let’s get out of here.”

ii.

At first, MacCready isn’t sure what to make of her new employer. That uncertainty lasts for all of half an hour, in which time Nora buys her a bottle of whiskey, talks their way into a job from Whitechapel Charlie and gets him to raise the pay rate not once but _twice_. 

“Once you’re finished your drink, we’ll get to work,” says Nora. MacCready nods, then downs her bottle of whiskey in one fell swoop, enjoying the way it burns as it goes down. Nora raises a way too perfect eyebrow, then rummages through her overstuffed pack to pull out a can of purified water, which she then hands over. “I didn’t say you had to drink it that quickly,” Nora said with a sigh as MacCready held the water, looking at her quizzically. “But if you’re going to down a whole bottle of whiskey that quickly, at least follow it with some water. You’ll dehydrate.”

“Okay, _Mom_ ,” says MacCready snidely, and Nora pales at the word. Hell, it’s not a word MacCready particularly wants to think about either. Part of her wants to apologise for some dumb reason. Instead, she drinks the water as quickly as she had the whiskey. “I’m good to go when you are, boss.”

“Alright then,” says Nora with a smile. “Let’s do this job for Charlie.”

Turns out Nora’s a dab hand with a lockpick and has absolutely no qualms stealing everything that’s not nailed down and putting bullets in Triggermen. MacCready tries to keep the smile of glee off her face as they make their way through 3 warehouses, killing all of those fedora wearing morons and looting as much as they could carry. She could definitely get used to this - sure, most of what Nora was grabbing was junk, but they should be able to get some caps for it, they’d gotten some sweet weapons and ammo out of it, and the Triggermen most definitely had it coming. 

Hancock had been complaining about the Triggermen situation for months. MacCready had offered to take them out multiple times, but Hancock had just shaken his head and told her in no uncertain terms that right now, she was a Goodneighbor resident - and he wasn’t about to hire anyone who lived in town for this job. “I’m waiting til the right person comes along,” Hancock had said with a dangerous glimmer in his dark eyes. “But I ain’t risking anyone local - Triggermen have eyes everywhere, best to get someone unattached to the place. And you, firecracker, are pretty damn attached right now.”

“You know I’d much rather be on the road working,” MacCready had replied grumpily. “But yeah, guess I see your point. As long as you’re not pulling this ‘it’s too dangerous’ crap on me because I’m a girl.”

Hancock had laughed heartily at that. “Only a fool would underestimate a woman,” he’d said once he’d stopped laughing. “I’m many things, but I ain’t a fool.”

Once they’d cleared out the warehouses, Nora sold off everything they couldn’t use to Daisy and KL-E-O, then headed back to The Third Rail to inform Charlie of their success and get paid. Nora bought them both a beer and gestured for MacCready to join her at a table. MacCready watched in disbelief as Nora tipped out all the caps they’d earned that day, split them into 2 even piles then put the first pile in the small bag she’d kept them in. A moment passed, and Nora frowned. 

“Probably shouldn’t leave them just sitting there,” she said, looking puzzled. 

“Are these for me?” MacCready asked, dumbfounded. 

Nora nodded. “You did half the work, you get half the pay. That alright by you?” 

MacCready fumbled into her pocket and grabbed out her own cap bag. “That’s more than alright,” she said, hastily putting the caps into her bag as she tried not to grin like an idiot. 

Nora smiled, and if MacCready didn’t know any better, she’d say her expression was almost affectionate. “Next round’s on you, then?” 

MacCready laughed. “Sure thing, boss.”

The next day, Nora manages to get them some work with Bobbi No-Nose. MacCready has never liked Bobbi No-Nose. It has nothing to do with her ghoulified state, a little to do with the fact that she just _reeks_ of untrustworthiness and a lot to do with her damn name. Bobbi. It reminded MacCready too much of nights spent with Lucian, that name whispered in her ear as his hands traced over her breasts, their bodies fused together in ecstasy. And that wasn’t something she could afford to remember. 

MacCready’s late husband was one of the few people who’d ever called her anything but her last name. Growing up in Little Lamplight, she’d been Mayor MacCready or occasionally RJ - Roberta Josephine was a bit of a tongue twister for a bunch of kids, most of which had all but forgotten their original names in favor of nicknames. When she met Lucian, a far too handsome medic who shouldn’t have even looked twice at a scrawny thing like her, she’d introduced herself as Roberta on a whim. After spending more time together, he’d started calling her Bobbi - he said it fit her better and she’d have never argued with him over it. 

The name ‘Bobbi’ on his lips sounded like a prayer, like something sacred, and hearing anyone else say it just felt _wrong_. MacCready had gotten away with never hearing the name Bobbi since Lucian up until she arrived in Goodneighbor. The ghoul mostly kept to herself, which suited MacCready fine, but every time their paths crossed, it made her skin crawl. Sure, she’d heard Bobbi had work going but had never approached her - no matter how hard up for caps she was, it wasn’t worth the pain. 

But Nora’s the boss, and MacCready’s the hired gun, so it’s on her to try keep her dumb emotions under control. It’s not like she could explain to Nora why this was a problem, anyway - sure, the older woman’s made a hell of a first impression, but she’s not about to spill her life story. 

It takes them about a week to complete Bobbi’s job, which sends them from Goodneighbor to Diamond City and back and makes MacCready more and more uncomfortable the longer it goes on. When they finally end up in a storeroom MacCready recognizes, an amused but pissed-off Fahrenheit staring down at them, she has to bite back the urge to shoot Bobbi No-Nose right in the… no nose. She’s on a job - she needs to see how Nora reacts to this before she does anything. 

It takes everything she has not to pipe up and try to convince Nora to side with Fahrenheit. She doesn’t want a firefight with Hancock’s right-hand woman. Not after everything Hancock’s done for her. But this isn’t her call and the situation’s tense enough as it is. _Come on, boss. Don’t let me down._

“You lied to us, Bobbi,” says Nora flatly. “And you have to pay.”

Bobbi blusters something about not betraying her. MacCready exchanges a glance with Nora, who nods in confirmation, then aims her rifle and shoots Bobbi clean between the eyes. 

Fahrenheit looks pleased at the result, even though the guy with the robot definitely isn’t (MacCready can’t remember his name and frankly doesn’t care). 

Later that night, they head to the State House as per Fahrenheit’s suggestion to speak with Hancock. He breaks out the good vodka and MacCready allows herself to get slightly more inebriated than she should. She trusts Hancock and she’s starting to trust Nora, so what’s the harm? The evening’s a blur and she wakes up the next morning curled up on Hancock’s couch, without her shoes, with a pillow under her head, a blanket over her body and 2 cans of purified water and some Med-X on a coffee table. Hancock walks in as she’s putting her boots back on and grins.

“Morning firecracker,” he greets her. “Been awhile since you’ve crashed on my couch.”

MacCready smirks and injects a half-dose of Med-X, sighing in relief as the pain in her head subsides. “Thanks for letting me crash,” she said gratefully. “And for leaving painkillers.”

“You’re welcome anytime, you know that. I didn’t leave the Med-X, though - that was your vault-dweller friend.” Hancock grins. “She wasn’t so sure about leaving you but I promised I’d do right by you. Insisted on taking off your boots, getting you a pillow and a blanket - regular mother hen, that one.”

“Don’t know why she’s wasting her time on my sorry butt,” MacCready mutters, but smiles anyway as she cracks open the can of water. 

“She seems to like having you around,” Hancock says casually. “Even turned down an opportunity to travel with yours truly to stick with you.”

MacCready stares open-mouthed for a moment. “Wait, what?”

Hancock shrugs. “Figured it’s time to stop living so comfortable. Offered to watch her back in the big, bad Commonwealth but she’s quite happy with her sniper.” He looks at her intently. “You seem happier, too. Probably best for me not to split up the dream team.”

“It’s a job,” says MacCready simply. “She’s fair, she pays well, she’s not too annoying - but it’s a job.”

Hancock doesn’t seem convinced. “If you weren’t such a stubborn ass, she could be a friend. I bet she’d help you with your Gunner problem if you asked.” 

“I don’t need any more friends,” says MacCready with a roll of her eyes. “I have you.” Hancock opens his mouth and MacCready goes to interrupt. “And I know you would help with the Gunners if you could, but… politics. I get it. I do.”

“She ain’t got anything like that holding her back,” he points out. 

“I’m still not sure about her,” MacCready admits. “I want to wait and see.”

Hancock frowns. “I’ve been hearing rumblings about you from the Gunners, firecracker. They ain’t happy. I don’t want to see your pretty little head bashed in, so my advice? Don’t wait too long.” 

As she heads down the stairs and out into Goodneighbor to find his employer, Hancock’s words echo in her head. _Soon,_ she promises herself. _I’ll talk to her soon._


End file.
